Mayor

Jarathia | Jarathia City | City Hall | Morning

Mayor Rizario stands at the window of his wide office, the morning light spilling over stacks of paper. His monocle glints, same as his bald head, as his orange eyes drift across the documents scattered on his desk—cashflows, agreements, and one special deal in particular from Alpas.

“50% of all mined goods in exchange for limitless support with keeping order in Jarathia”

The Mayor sighs deeply.
“Is independence really the best idea?” He murmurs. “The bandits had their chance to rule… and where did it get them? Two dead leaders in a row, one killed just last night by a no-name adventurer. And just like last time, their deputy is nowhere to be found…”

A knock. The door opens. A woman steps inside, her black hair bound in a neat ponytail, black suit immaculate. Beside her trots a small child in a princess dress, long blonde hair loose, orange eyes sparkling.

“Father, father!” the girl chirps. “In the street—I saw a new adventurer! She saved everyone yesterday!”

Rizario softens, pulling her into his arms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

The woman watches him carefully, reading the strain on his face.
“What’s on your mind?”

“I’ll take back the mines, dear,” he replies at last, “and snuff out this ridiculous fantasy of independence. It’s dragged on far too long.”

“And after?” She asks quietly. “You take the mines from the bandits… and then what?”

“Alpas wants to share resources. If we can offer them more stones, they’ll help us keep the island protected and running smoothly.”

The child applauds for him, oblivious to the true meaning behind his words. Rizario kisses her forehead, then gently sends her off toward her mother.
“I’ll see you two soon. Time for my speech.”

He straightens his black suit and leaves his office.

The grand hall roars as he enters—guards lined up in rows upon rows. Rizario’s voice echoes through the vaulted area.

“WE WILL TAKE BACK OUR MINES!” His words boom like thunder. “WE WILL TAKE BACK OUR FREEDOM! NO MORE SUFFERING—NO MORE BANDITS! WE WILL END THESE PARASITES! THEY’VE STOLEN OUR RESOURCES FOR FAR TOO LONG!”

The guards lift their weapons, a chorus of voices booming back:

“JARATHIA! JARATHIA! JARATHIA!”

“Time to attack!” Rizario commands. “We will free the mines!”

The soldiers surge out, necessary preparation already in motion. But Rizario turns away, his steps carrying him to a different door—one marked Conference Room.

Inside, a long red table dominates the chamber, five out of six leather chairs occupied. Rizario takes his seat at one of the heads of the table.

At the end opposite Rizario sits a blonde youth in a black suit, face dotted with pimples. He smiles with overconfidence, though his blue eyes stay cold. He is the first to speak.

“Mayor Rizario. Attacking the bandits for our benefit—it’s definitely the right move. What do they even need the mines for?”

“Who cares? They won’t be relevant for much longer anyway!” Rizario answers. “The mines will be ours. We’ll force the bandits to mine there as punishment for the rest of their delusional lives! And once we have Alpas’ support, we can even send in the outskirts without fear of a revolution… and then our workforce will double!”

To Rizario’s right sits an old woman with a stiff wig and diamond earrings that refract streaks of rainbow light onto her pale blouse.

She audibly huffs at his words. “Young people don’t even know what true hardship IS! Back in MY days, we had to work until our fingers bled! THAT is why our nation flourished back then! The hardworking earned their deserved wealth, the rest got NOTHING!”

To Rizario’s left sits a fat noble with a white beard, his golden rings gleaming on plump fingers. He checks a heavy watch for the hundredth time since Rizario’s arrival, clearly bored, and sighs.

“Merchants always complain about the ghettos’ looks. The homeless don’t make us money either. If we can solve both at once… I’m sure our profit margins will rise too.”

Between the fat and the pimpled men sits a slim young man in a garish gold suit, who reveals just as golden teeth whenever he grins, as he does now.

“Yeah, let’s put them to use. More miners, more soldiers… If we raise the bounties on wyverns, the kids will see it as an exciting career and train hard to hunt them. Then we won’t need any more adventurers—much less that Crystal Grave. He’s getting too dangerous. Then again…” His grin twists. “Perhaps we can use him. He DID kill the bandits’ leader. Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something? All we need to do is give her a cushy house and life and I’m sure he’ll do anything we want…”

Seated between the wigged woman and the pimpled man, a young woman adjusts her glasses, her orange eyes sharp beneath a fringe of blonde hair. She wears a fur-trimmed leather coat, her expression calculating as she leans forward.

“Exactly. What matters is POWER! Getting rid of compulsory schooling was a good start—we’ve saved so much money over the years, by doing that. The idiots who refuse to learn can do the menial work. The smart, who care to study will naturally rise to the top. Let their work ethics ensure their survival. They should learn that food and shelter are privileges, not rights.”

Rizario claps his hands, sharp and decisive.
“Then it’s settled. Jarathia’s future begins today! Independence is unnecessary. The age of Raven is long gone. Her peace was fragile anyway—or else, how could it have collapsed with her death? Instead, our peace will come from warriors, alliances, and… tighter control.”

The young woman smirks. “And what about the so-called Crystal Grave? Why not turn that boy into a weapon of war? Especially since his little girlfriend is broken beyond repair already…”

Rizario fixes his monocle, staring hard at the young noblewoman across the table.
“Jinnra…? What did you do?”

Jinnra crosses her arms, her fur scarf swishing like a cape. “Don’t we all agree it was high time for a change? And it was so easy too - just one little move and their so-called ‘protector’ turns into their worst nightmare. That’s all.”

Laughter ripples through the chamber, low and confident.

The pimpled youth smirks. “A HERO, falling to pieces over some woman’s suffering. How poetic. If he were smart—”

Rizario cuts him off sharply. “But what did you DO? Jinnra. Jonath.”

Jonath leans back in his chair, flashing his golden teeth. “Bandits and money, Rizario. That’s all it took. You find a weak spot—a weak man, with weaker morals—and watch him collapse their house of cards from the inside. We let them have fun with a few local women and everything goes our way! The bandits are divided and their reputation lies in ruins!”

Then he chuckles, smug, continuing, “The leader is dead. His sister was supposed to finish the Crystal Grave’s girlfriend off, raising his hatred even further, but fate gave us something better. That new adventurer—strong enough to fight her off. Seems like we’ll get two Crystal Graves for the price of one… Much better than we expected.” His grin grows. “That’s—”

“Enough.” Rizario’s voice cuts him off, cold. His monocle trembles slightly as his orange eyes glare at the man. “Answer me already! What did you DO TO HER?”

Silence falls.

Jonath smirks, unperturbed. “Just ordered her to get roughed up a bit. Let the men treat her as they wanted. That’s all.”

Rizario slams a fist on the table. “That girl… she managed EVERY transaction between us and the bandits!” His tone wavers, something almost human breaking through.

Jinnra shrugs, her voice steady as stone. “All the better. That way, the lawless will never have a say again. We don’t need their flimsy deals, it’s time to watch them collapse. And then—then we swoop in and take all the pieces.”

Rizario slowly shakes his head. “You don’t mind at all… when she was the only one willing to maintain that balance. That’s madness.”

The old woman adjusts her wig, her voice dry. “A mere… unpleasant episode. All scars fade. The young these days are much too fragile, if that’s all it takes to break them. Their minds, their wills… disgustingly weak.”

Rizario sits back, forcing his face into composure, but disgust roils in his gut. Their laughter, their confidence—it makes him sick.

He straightens, clearing his throat. “I’ve already ordered our remaining forces to take over the mines. The bandits are without a leader. Now is our chance.”

Around the table, the council nods in quiet agreement. Consensus has been reached.

But Rizario’s hand, hidden under the desk, is clenched into a trembling fist.